Armana
by edwardsgirlfriend1
Summary: Steven was killed, plain and simple. He's now bounded to the place of his death, reliving his death on every full moon. He remained alone, only seen by others when he turned into the terrifying. Armana was out of control, bloodlusted. Until she met him...
1. Prologue

Prologue

_Prologue_

_**1986**_

The crowd roared loudly as the song came to a finish. I put my fist up in the air and screamed. Robert did a long drum roll and ended on the symbols. "Thank you," I panted. "Thank you for being here for us."

Yeah, everyone loves break up concerts, even though most go back for the reunion ones. Me, personally, it was a relief. I was tired of the screaming fans, cameras, and all the drama. Can't a guy loathe in piece? And hope that his psycho ex-girlfriend leaves him alone?

Gina needed help, plain and simple. Screaming and yelling and stomping and being just a plain bitch. Saying that "I need to stop being a mope gothic asshole". Crack whore.

Patrick, the bass guitarist, was thanking everyone and making a big ass speech about how everyone means so much to us. I rolled my eyes. As if. But then again, Patrick always was the theatrical show-off in the group.

Fans would always flock all over him the most, though I was always second for some odd reason. All the chicks swooned when I wore all leather or chains. At the moment, they couldn't stop screaming at me, giving me a migraine I know I'll never forget. I didn't see the big deal personally. I was just wearing some of my favorite chain bell bottom pants, a tight black t-shirt with skulls along the white sleeves. My black hair, never dyed, was disheveled on my head, always finding it's way into my eyes.

A gunshot sounded through the auditorium before I felt the pain in my chest. I hit the ground with a thud, screams echoing around me. The world blurred around me, spinning wildly, the pain taking over my mind. Another shot sprung in my chest, making me cry out in pain. My eyes focused for a second. Right above me, Gina stood with a gun pointed at my chest.

"You like that?" she asked, pulling the trigger again. I thrashed at the bullet it me.

"How bout this?" Another one in the neck.

"Feel my pain, Steven." One in the left shoulder.

"Wallow in it." The pain sang through my veins, immobilizing me at last.

She kneeled down next to me, looking at me with those blue, hate filled eyes. "I have no heart, Steven. You craved it out with your hate." She pulled a knife out of her coat, gazing at it longingly.

"You wouldn't –" she drove the knife through my chest, hard. I lurched and screamed out. She made a large circle, making me scream so loud my voice hurt. Patrick grabbed her around the waist and pulling, yelling at her to stop. _Yes, please stop…_ When she pulled out, the skin and muscle around the knife went too. She smiled at the blooded knife, seeing a large chunk of my heart. I couldn't scream anymore. I just lurched and arched up in pain.

"Now you're truly a heartless bastard, Steven," she said smugly.

Police officers and paramedics gathered around me, their voices mixing until they faded into nothingness blur. A paramedic touch my neck, right where my pulse should be. "It's too late. He's gone."

_No, no, no! I can't be dead! I just can't be!_

The world faded, even as I struggled against it, the darkness won.


	2. First Meeting

Armana

Armana

_Prologue_

_**1986**_

The crowd roared loudly as the song came to a finish. I put my fist up in the air and screamed. Robert did a long drum roll and ended on the symbols. "Thank you," I panted. "Thank you for being here for us."

Yeah, everyone loves break up concerts, even though most go back for the reunion ones. Me, personally, it was a relief. I was tired of the screaming fans, cameras, and all the drama. Can't a guy loathe in piece? And hope that his psycho ex-girlfriend leaves him alone?

Gina needed help, plain and simple. Screaming and yelling and stomping and being just a plain bitch. Saying that "I need to stop being a mope gothic asshole". Crack whore.

Patrick, the bass guitarist, was thanking everyone and making a big ass speech about how everyone means so much to us. I rolled my eyes. As if. But then again, Patrick always was the theatrical show-off in the group.

Fans would always flock all over him the most, though I was always second for some odd reason. All the chicks swooned when I wore all leather or chains. At the moment, they couldn't stop screaming at me, giving me a migraine I know I'll never forget. I didn't see the big deal personally. I was just wearing some of my favorite chain bell bottom pants, a tight black t-shirt with skulls along the white sleeves. My black hair, never dyed, was disheveled on my head, always finding it's way into my eyes.

A gunshot sounded through the auditorium before I felt the pain in my chest. I hit the ground with a thud, screams echoing around me. The world blurred around me, spinning wildly, the pain taking over my mind. Another shot sprung in my chest, making me cry out in pain. My eyes focused for a second. Right above me, Gina stood with a gun pointed at my chest.

"You like that?" she asked, pulling the trigger again. I thrashed at the bullet it me.

"How bout this?" Another one in the neck.

"Feel my pain, Steven." One in the left shoulder.

"Wallow in it." The pain sang through my veins, immobilizing me at last.

She kneeled down next to me, looking at me with those blue, hate filled eyes. "I have no heart, Steven. You craved it out with your hate." She pulled a knife out of her coat, gazing at it longingly.

"You wouldn't –" she drove the knife through my chest, hard. I lurched and screamed out. She made a large circle, making me scream so loud my voice hurt. Patrick grabbed her around the waist and pulling, yelling at her to stop. _Yes, please stop…_ When she pulled out, the skin and muscle around the knife went too. She smiled at the blooded knife, seeing a large chunk of my heart. I couldn't scream anymore. I just lurched and arched up in pain.

"Now you're truly a heartless bastard, Steven," she said smugly.

Police officers and paramedics gathered around me, their voices mixing until they faded into nothingness blur. A paramedic touch my neck, right where my pulse should be. "It's too late. He's gone."

_No, no, no! I can't be dead! I just can't be!_

The world faded, even as I struggled against it, the darkness won.

_**2008**_

My victim moaned loudly into my sensitive ears, his fingers digging roughly into my hips. Not that I cared; I was getting what I wanted. His delicious life force flowed into my mouth, tainting my lips a red that no man made lip stick could ever match in color. _Sweet, so sweet..._ After an immeasurable amount of time, he grew heavy against me, his mind drifting into unconsciousness. Pulling my mouth away from his neck, I let him drop against the ally wall and backed away. I looked around myself as I licked the sweet red juice from my lips. All that was in ally beside the man and myself was a dumpster and a few doors that belonged to the businesses around us. Rain dropped heavily on the pavement, making me smile. I've always loved the rain, it's coolness a little warmer than my skin, cleansing both my skin and my mind from emotions. I zipped my leather jacket up and waked out onto the sidewalk, out of the darkened ally. It didn't matter to me that I'd left him there. A regular passerby would either not take notice of him or think that he was a local drunk from the bar next door. My stiletto heels clicked in rhythm on the pavement as I made my way to the car, one foot sounding more hollow than the other, for it had a missing cover on the heel.

I sighed. Eternal life lost it's appeal centuries ago. My non-beating heart used all it's joy and happiness that it could give, which wasn't very much to start out with. Maybe it was because even when I was mortal, my heart had never really been there. Though, everytime it was broken, I felt the pain were it should have hurt. Anomalous, in my opinion. But I've always been that way. Miss Weird Abnormality, that's me. Even as a creature of my stature I'm considered different. But in my case, it's helpful. Gives my prey a warning to run when they see me; however, like most ignorant bastards, they never heed warning. Stupid assholes.

Someone in a long trench coat bumped into my shoulder as they passed by, earning a quiet growl on my part. Something brushed into my hand before they walked off. I looked down to see a pure white envelope. I chuckled. Why use white? It's a complete and utter stain magnet, even if it's a stupid piece of paper. I approached my car, hitting the button on the remote to unlock. It was a Volvo, long, sleek, and black as night. Inside, it was like a vacuum, no sound from the outside escaping in, and visa versa. The windows were tinted to a pitch black, allowing no sunlight to creep through. I climbed in and slammed the door. I looked at the envelope again, now slightly crumpled from my hand. I turned it over to see the back. I suppressed a groan and a gasp as I saw the seal. A pair of angel's wings were formed in light red seal ink. _Crap._ What the fuck does he want?

I ripped it open, not bothering to be careful. Where my brother was concerned, I was never careful. I pulled out a white note card and read.

_A,_

_Come to the Thirsty Parrot. We need to talk._

_Corna_

I swore and ripped the note to shreds. Why the fuck did he do this to me? He knew I hated his guts, him and Damion and Marceous. He had no fucking right. Yeah we used to have the regular relationship a brother and sister should have, back when we were mortal, but not now. It ended when he turned me into the one thing I despised, destroyed, and loathed. A blood sucking creature of night, forbidden to go out into the sun. Forbidden to ever again have a beating heart. Well, unless I was Blooded and I know sure as hell that was never gonna happen.

Blooded is when I see or go within a certain distance of my unknown mate. When I'm near him, my heart will begin to beat again, blood will run through my veins, though I would still be immortal. Then, I would take my Groom in a frenzy, his neck and his cock. Over and over and over again.

I shook my head of such thoughts. It's never gonna happen, so why hope for it. Even if I did ever get a Groom, he would never have me. I was too out-of-reach for any man to care for me. Including my fucking brothers.

I started the engine, it's quiet purr meaning nothing to me. I pulled out and headed to the heart of downtown. Time for another fucking family reunion.

Walking through the door, I scanned the room. The Thirsty Parrot was a regular bar for paranormal creatures. Sort of a safe haven. Well, at least it was until I walked into the room. Then everyone in here is in danger of injury. Especially that god damn werewolf in the corner eyeballing me. I snarled low at him before grabbing a table at the back of the bar, far off in the dark corner where all the cobwebs are. I ordered a beer from the hydra-human hybrid prostitute waitress. The sooner that she got away from me the better. The way she was looking at me like a piece of meat didn't make me uncomfortable; it made me good and pissed. I gulped down a few swallows from the Budweiser before Corna walked in the room. Jeans, silver sweater, brown cow hide jacket and boots. That's my brother. My other two came in right after him. Before he betrayed me, Marceous was my favorite of my three brothers. Now I love him just about as much as I love a pile of mutant warlock shit. Same for Damion. He's just a common ass hole that lost a few points on the baby making scale cause of my boot and temper. This same temper of which, at the moment, was on the brink of going over the edge. Seeing me, Corna stiffened, put his hand on the side of his belt, and start striding on over. His hand barely touched a pistol, fire dipped from what I could sense. A pair of cuffs and a loop of rope were attached to Damion's. Making a mental note of it, I looked Corna dead in the eye and leaned back.

"You can wipe that god damn smirk off your fucking mouth, Corna. Not in the mood," I snapped at him.

He smirked wider. "Nice to see you too, sis."

"Can it." I glanced at Marceous, glaring and scowling. "How ya doing, Mars?"

He didn't answer; he just looked incredibly fascinated with his shoes.

I just glared at Damion, not bothering with a greeting. What was the point? He wouldn't return it.

"How's things going, Ar? Still ripping people up?" Corna asked, sitting down across from me.

"Cut the shit and tell me what the fuck you want," I spat him, my quick patience lost.

He sighed. "We're worried about you, Armana." 'We' meaning the three of them. "You've been going over board with the bounty hunting. And the drinking from the vein."

"How would you know that?" I asked nonchalantly, propping my feet up on the table.

"Your eyes are redder than the last time I saw you."

I paused, my beer halfway to my mouth. "And that was when? You haven't seen me for decades. You could've misplaced in your memory what color my eyes were."

His eyes narrowed. "I remember perfectly. You're going over board."

I swallowed, ice forming in my throat. I know that I'm not supposed to drink from the vein, let alone do it everytime I feed. But I've never been known for following orders. "If I wanna feed straight from the vein, I'm gonna fucking feed straight from the vein. You can't tell me what to do."

"Bloodlust is taking over your life, Armana."

"No it's not."

"It's not?" he asked sarcastically.

"No, it's apart of it. You should know that, of all people."

He sighed again, standing up. "You're losing control of yourself, fast. I can see it now in your eyes." He leaned across the table, his eyes digging deep into mine. "How are you ever going to get a Groom this way?"

"Give up on that, Cor. I already have."

"And why is that?"

"It's irrevocably impossible for me."

"And why would that be?"

"Every male in the paranormal world knows that I'm off limits. Those that didn't know and tried to make a move on me are either dead, sterile, or neutered."

At this, he grimaced, but his eyes were amused. "Well that's you for ya."

"That's another point." I leaned over the table, not moving my feet while doing so. "A Groom is gonna change who I am. I'm certain of it. They're gonna want to change me to suit what they want or not have me at all. Might as well not look for a Groom. Save myself some headaches and turmoil for him."

"Maybe if you weren't in bloodlust, you would be suitable for a Groom. They wouldn't want to change you."

"You know nothing." I glared violently at him.

"I can help you get out of it."

"You know shit! Nothing's wrong with me!" I sprung to my feet, tense and ready. Someone grabbed me from behind, pulling my arms tight around my back. I looked over my shoulder to see the werewolf from earlier. "Take your fucking hands off of me," I growled. He roared in my ear. I jerked my head away, the scent unbearable. "Okay, let me go and get a tick-tack, dude." He roared angrily. _He asked for it._ I kicked my stiletto back and up, the heel landing right in his member. He roared again, but his hands loosened. I toke that chance and ran out of his arms. I raced outside, Marceous and Damion right on my tail. I made it out the door right when they tackled me. I growled loudly, snapping my teeth at Marceous. His flinched away, but not before my teeth connected with his shoulder. He roared in pain And punched my face away. My teeth ripped away the skin I was holding on to, causing him to bleed incessantly. Damion toke a kick in the shin with a grunt. I punched him in the stomach and then connected his head with my boot. He fell back.

I jumped up and ran, but only a few steps. A sharp pain hit me in the neck, literally. My eyes flickered over to see Corna. He jabbed a fucking needle in my neck. My eyes grew heavy, my body limp. I fell to the ground, some of Marceous' blood mixing with my hair.

"Sorry, Armana," he whispered. "This is for your own good."

"Fuck you bitch," I slurred.

That was the last thing I said before the world went black.

I stood outside of the Washington State Music Hall, staring blankly at a lone newspaper across the street. You might be wondering, why the hell doesn't he walk over and get it? Well, I can't. Being a fucking morphing sprit was a real pain in my ass. Ever since fucking Gina killed me, I haven't been able to leave the Music Hall. Yeah it looked pretty cool, that's we had chosen it for our last concert. It was like a haunted mansion with a large room in the middle with over a thousand chairs in the balconies and main floor, with a big median in the middle that lead up to the stage. In the back there were dressing rooms, even a few bedrooms and full bathrooms for when groups did the same show in the town for multiple nights at a time. Sure, for a while I actually loved being damned to live here. Trust me, it got old _real_ quick.

Back to the task at hand. I glared at the newspaper, wrapped up in the usual rubber band and blue plastic bag that most mail boys use. I tried to reach it physically, but in my mind, it made me look real silly or stupid. Most likely both. I mean, if you saw a 19 year old on one side of the street reaching across with his arms to grab a paper on the other side, wouldn't you think he lost his bonkers? I know sure would.

But I didn't need to worry about anyone seeing me. One part of being a ghost, no one seeing you. Ever. Now add that to being able to morph into anything and any shape. And once you do morph, then people see you. Crappy job, right? I've been stuck for this form for 100 years, never even been able to change what I'm wearing. I've been stuck in the same clothes that I died in, except when I morph.

There have been many productions and bands that play at the hall, showing me how the world of music has changed since my time. I've even sang on stage with them, though no one sees me. Everyone just hears an extra voice added, a haunting, lonely voice. It matches perfectly with bands like Marilyn Manson, Evanescence, HIM, Falling Up, Nine Inch Nails, and The Cure.

It's been years since anyone has performed here though. The owner probably sold it, considering all the gossip about how it's haunted. How scary creatures pop up everywhere in mirrors and under beds and in closets. Can you blame me though? How else am I supposed to get my entertainment?

My ears perked up. My head swung to the right. A Volvo came rushing up the street. A black one at that. I whistled low. To my surprise, it pulled to the right, past me, and down the lane to the front of the hall. I flashed to the door, waiting to see who it was. Three really tall dudes got out, though not as tall as me. All of them looked scarily alike, pale, dark haired, and beefy. But that's not what really caught my eye. One had a black eye and another a blooded lip. Something kept thrashing back and forth in the car, but it's arms didn't move, like it was tied up. Great, I get to spend an immeasurable amount of time with a hostage, a lunatic one by the looks of it.

"God damn it, Ar," the one with the bloody lip spat in the car. "Kick my in the fucking crotch again and see what happens." The thing in the car just growled. I had to chuckle at that. Not everyday I see a dude get his ass whooped.

"Come, Damion. Help me get her out." The one with no injuries moved around to the opposite side of the car from where I was. _Her?_ That explains the crotch kicking.

"Fine, I'm taking her arms. You get the stilettos. Marceous, get the tazer." The un marked one groaned and opened the door. A long string of curses came flowing out. He grabbed something, I'm assuming her feet or hands, and pulled. Something thumped on the ground when the one named Damion didn't get her hands.

"Fuck, Damion. Drop me again and you're gonna miss a chunk of skin on you're arm like Marceous."

"Thanks for the reminder." Marceous rubbed his arm lightly. What ya know? He was missing a chunk of skin.

"Shut up or your getting another shot," spat the one holding her feet. That earned a kick in the face with a steel toed stiletto. That had to hurt. They came around to where I was. I couldn't breathe. Wrestling and twisting her body, was the most beautiful woman I've ever seen in my life. Her long auburn hair was covered in dust and dirt from dragging on the ground, some spilling onto her pale neck. Her bright red eyes were alit with fury. Wait, red eyes? I did a double take. Sure enough, her eyes were a vivid blood red. For some unknown reason, it didn't disgust me. It was … intriguing.

She contorted every which way in order to try to get free, but the guys held on. My temper rose. Why would three guys be dragging a woman into a deserted theater, carrying her by her arms and legs? When they got her inside, Marceous turned to close the door. I beat him to it, slamming it hard enough for the front wall to quake. He looked around frantically, slightly spooked. "Jeez, dude, you didn't have to slam it that hard," The one holding her feet said.

"I swear I didn't do that guys." He walked slowly away from the door.

"Sure, and there's ghosts in the theater." Wow, he got it right on point.

"Come on, Corna, don't joke."

"Scared of ghosts, fraidy cat," the girl taunted.

He gulped but didn't say anything. She laughed loudly. It was the most beautiful sound I've ever heard. Like bells in the air…

"Oh you wish you could see one, huh fangy?"

Fangy? What the fuck was that about? "Don't be joking, Ar."

"I'm not joking." Her smile vanished, covering me in disappointment. "I wish a ghost would come out and scare you out of your fucking wits! Would serve you right." She continued to thrash, cuss, and taunt Marceous up the stairs and into the dressing room area. They dropped onto one of the beds, and quickly chained her to the posts before she could get up all the way. She could probably still sit up all the way, but not enough room to get up from the bed. I stayed in the doorway, barely in the room. Damion was pushing me out a bit, so I poked him in the shoulder a few times, making him come all the way into the room. Yeah, I can touch people, but nothing can touch me. Again, crappy. And, if any emotion is over powering me at that moment, I can't touch them at all! My life totally sucks.

Damion turned, his eyes wary yet alert. "Are you sure that we should have brought her here?"

"Of course I'm sure. When have I ever been wrong?" Corna asked exasperated.

The girl mumbled something low, and received a punch in leg. She jerked but didn't scream. I smiled, quietly impressed. Most women would have lifted the roof with their screams, considering on how hard he punched. All she did was lift the roof with her vulgar mouth. That beautiful, perfectly shaped, plump mouth…

"Fucking A, Corna!" she shrieked, her teeth almost biting his arm off. "If you don't quit beating me, you're gonna regret the fucking day Ma decided to get lucky."

He just laughed, making her even madder, his eyes still tense though.

I studied her from my view. Her skin that wasn't covered in clothing or armor was covered in dirt and dust, casting a dark tanned look on her, darker in places where the debris was in chunks. Her long auburn hair was in clumps, padded with dirt, mud, and blood. Her eyes were a deep red, seeming to turn lighter at times and darker at others. By the way that she was twisting and flipping on the bed, he figured she was very flexible. _And different…_

"God fucking damn it!!" she screamed. Her fangs elongated and snapped at Damion. He barely dodged, making her chomp down on her own arm. She paused a second, her eyes dazed as she sucked her own blood, slowly, her fangs laying deep in her muscle. My eyes blazed as she pulled away sharply, moaning softly. She slowly opened her eyes and my heart almost stopped. She was starring right at me.

I opened my eyes slowly, expecting to see Corna staring at me in anger and horror. That was what I got, but I didn't see him. In the doorway, leaning against the frame, was a man. Not really a man, but more like a figure of one.

He was lean, his tight chained black leather pants hugging to his legs. He had a tight shirt on, black too, with extended white sleeves. Skulls and daggers etched closely to the fabric that was clinging to his biceps. When my eyes locked with his, my dead heart seemed to sputter. He had bright green eyes, contrasting brilliantly with his natural black hair. He was gorgeous, a white eerie glow basking around him. I was lucky enough to notice him; if it wasn't so dark in the room and hallway I wouldn't have. His eyes locked with mine, blazing with an emotion I hadn't seen before. My eyebrows drew together in frustration. I could usually sense what another was feeling, let alone a man. Why can't I sense him? _Because he's not there…_ I ignored that voice in my head. Of course he was there. How else could I see him?

"You're losing it," Corna was telling me. Like I would pay attention when there was a god standing in the doorway. His hand came up slowly, moving slightly back and forth. I smiled slightly. He was waving at me. For some unknown reason, it pleased me. A surge of energy coursed through me suddenly, making me gasp and writhe. The chains broke from my wrists, tumbling me on to the floor. I did the first thing that ran to mind. I ran toward him, crashing into the dresser on the way. The man moved away, his eyes shocked. Unconciously, he stretched his and down and lifted my arm to help me up. I crawled to my feet, desperate. Then my eyes locked with his again. I couldn't move, my body somewhere away from me. We stared at each for an immeasureable amount of time. Something pushed me, knocking me down. He feel with me, falling under me. I landed with a thud on top—no _through_ him. I looked up at his face, and he stared back, until his face and the rest of him.

Damion pulled on my arms, tugging me back into the room. The man appeared again in front of me, knealing by my head. I struggled against Damion, never tearing my eyes from the green ones. A sharp pain hit my shoulder. I sucked in my breath, saying the first thing that came to mind before the world went black. "Man. So beautiful…"


	3. AUTHOR'S NOTE! PLZ READ!

**A/N: Okay, sorry I haven't updated anything in so long, but I've had such a huge writer's block it isn't funny. Any ideas toward this would SO help me out! Please tell me what you think should happen next! I can't think of where I want this to go.**

**Plus, to those of you who think that I'm copying my work off of other people, I'm not. I gave credit to the author, so that's not copying. I am not a plagiarizer. You have you're opinion, I have mine, but if you don't like then go read someone else's writing.**

**Thank you, very much.**

**-R.A.B. **


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